Fashion

Around 4 in the morning, trussed into a too-narrow, too-short sleeping bag, wondering whether it is possible to die of exposure in an air temperature of 11° in a tent, I remembered that my last ever night in a sleeping bag took place 93 weeks ago. Except I forgot.
 
A cloud rolled overhead, the air temperature rose slightly and I didn’t die. I next woke about 11. I washed (having brought our children up to tolerate being sticky, I suspect our generation are the final guardians of the art of strip-washing in a tent), dressed and headed to the arena for coffee.

The impression was of a field full of Gandalf beards but when I got out my camera I realised I was quite wrong. Most faces in this field, regardless of gender, look like they’ll pass at work on Monday morning, as long as they untwist the flowered headbands from their hair. Even the festival uniform – Indian bedspread skirts, patchwork jackets, blanket ponchos, embroidered and tie-dyed everything (still! Woodstock lives!) – which feels ubiquitous, is actually worn only by a minority. But there is a garb I haven’t seen before (it takes me several years to notice fashion trends): men in pleated skirts, mostly in black, some in army camouflage. I’m perplexed. Men have been wearing kaftans and sarongs for decades and it’s no longer unusual to see gender-fluid dressing in towns so why are they uniformly paying homage only to kilts? In most cases they add a sporran or tartan sock tags as if to prove there’s maleness underneath. Explain, someone.
 
But my sartorial favourite was the variety of plastic that appeared when it started spitting. We were actually incredibly lucky that the two hours’ heavy rain on offer from the Met Office skirted round the edge of Cropredy but that didn’t stop the rain defences going up. More in extras.

My, and most people’s highlight of the day: the Pierce Brothers. Not just their music but their stage presence, their joyous camaraderie, their disarming friendliness, their sense of fun, and the beachballs they threw out for the audience to bounce around. Rain? Who cares!

There’s masses on YouTube, but I chose this because it just so happens I was videoing buskers in Melbourne on the day this was recorded, I'm pretty sure in the same street. I've checked – I didn't photograph them there.